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I'm a writer, living in Bristol in the UK. I've had a handful of short stories published but I'm still working on that Holy Grail for fiction writers- securing a literary agent. So, if you're an agent or have an Auntie, Uncle, second cousin, best friend who is one...

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Exploring fictional worlds in a flash

Friday Fictioneers: Lost Treasure

When Josey was a little girl, she would spend rainy afternoons playing with her mother’s pot of spare buttons – pearlised cuff buttons, chunky wooden coat buttons, shimmery greens and blues from old skirts and blouses. Josey let them run through her fingers like sea-smoothed shells, listening to their their soft chink and slither, pebbles caught in a swell.

Now Josey carries a pair of nail scissors in her coat pocket. She snips the threads and cords while people aren’t looking, adds their buttons to her stolen treasures.

Oh, I’ve moved so many times. And I stopped all forms of handcraft when I developed a problem with my right hand. Though I did eventually have an op which has put it right and returned my grip, by then I’d moved on with my life.

My mother had such a button jar when I was little. Like Josey I loved to play with them. However, I haven’t gone to stealing the buttons of others. The last line is a sweet mixture of poignancy and humor. Well done as always.

Something about the smooth feel, the clickity -clack sound and the many colors: you have captured the allure perfectly.

And for my generation at least, sewing is a thing of nostalgia, something our mothers did, and we escaped. But now, with both mothers and sewing machines long gone, we look back upon both with nostalgia.

Thanks Sandra. My mum had a button jar. I think it had been a sort of canister for John Player cigarettes – very 1970s! I loved the feel of those buttons running through my fingers. As you say, fewer buttons needed now with elasticated tops and waistbands. Thanks so much for reading

I so much enjoyed my grandmother’s button jar… I wonder where it ended up… maybe we will find it when we clean out my mother’s house…. the thought of taking buttons from people is such an interesting thought (and a little bit chilling… as it could escalate)

Oh Lynn, I love this story! You have given Josey’s character such depth. As Dale says, the buttons symbolise the mother that she’s lost, but they also represent her lost childhood. And that speaks volumes about the relationship between mother and daughter. So many layers and so delicately done!

Aw, thank you so much Penny. I’m glad it came across as layered to you. I just enjoyed the thought of her collecting buttons from others in the forlorn hope she could recapture something forever lost. Perhaps this is behaviour we all take part in in some way. Thanks so much for reading and for the kind comment